Home is wherever you are
by Love-Is-Shady-Tree-Service
Summary: Sam. Dean. John. Salting, burning, kidnapping, blood, guts, glory. The family business.
1. Chapter 1

Hello wonderful people! Here's a thing I wrote. I'll try to update it at least once a week but I'm not going to make promises because I'm not very good at keeping them. Eventually, there will be blood. But not a lot today so if you're the kind of person who doesn't like that, I'm sorry :(

disclaimer: owning the boys would be pretty much the only single wish my heart ever makes.

warnings: I try not to put anything in here I wouldn't want to read, so limited cursing and very little blood for today :)

also: keep in mind I flunked seventh grade grammar.

ages: dean:18ish Sam: 14ish

Enjoy :)

* * *

Six Months earlier

"Its just a salt and burn. Its not even going to be that hard dad, I can handle this alone." Dean whined as he wrenched open the passenger side door of the Impala.

"You've been kind of off you game lately and I don't need anybody getting hurt. I am coming with you and we are doing this together. Got it?" John retorted, a hint of anger in his voice. The hunt was a good thirty miles away from their motel, in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. The ghost of Clayton Masters had been strangling pairs of tourists along the road that went past where he used to work. The warehouse had once been a sawmill, but had been shut down for quite a while.

Dean rolled his eyes as he turned to the backseat to face his younger brother. Sam was gazing despondently out the window, his head resting against the cool glass of the window.

Another new town; another new set of friends and a new set of bullies.

"Come on Sammy, it's not so bad. What do you say we gank this bi- guy and get ice cream after?" Dean said, his eyes searching Sam for any kind of response.

"It's Sam. And I'm not four, Dean. I just don't want to be here, that's all."

John glanced at his son in the rearview mirror, wishing none of this had happened, for both his own sake and for that of his sons.

The car pulled up in front of the warehouse just as the sun was making it's way down past the horizon.

"You two take the back, I'll go through the front." John ordered, a chorus of "yes sirs" following.

The brothers walk around to the other side of the warehouse, feet crunching on gravel and wood chips.

"You know, you're making this harder than it needs to be," Dean started

"Just because you have friends and everybody likes you doesn't mean its that easy for everybody! So just cut it out already!" Sam half shouted, causing nearby birds to flutter away in mock panic.

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed as he turned the corner next to the old and rusting door.

"Alright. I'm going to count to three, then open the door. Back me up, okay?" Dean said. Sam nodded, double barrel raised and loaded with rock salt.

"One...Two...Three!" On three, Dean threw his body at the door, breaking down and sending up a cloud of dust. Sam coughed as he entered the building behind his brother. He knew he should be thinking about the hunt, but his mind kept wandering to other things. The new math program at his new school was really intense and the homework load was immense. He wasn't entirely sure he would be able to finish it in time, what will all the salting and burning.

Sam was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he failed to see the flickering form appear just in front of him. He only noticed it when its fingers were securely wrapped around his neck, all the oxygen leaving his body in a single struggled exhale.

"SAMMY!" Dean shouted as he fired rock salt at legs of the ghost, trying his very best to avoid hitting the younger hunter-in-training.

Screeching in pain, Clayton Masters dropped Sam in a heap onto the floor and disappeared.

Dean rushed to his brother, knowing they had only minutes- no, seconds, until Clayton returned. Sam lay on his back gasping for breath his hand rubbing his head where it had bit the cement floor.

"You good?" Dean asked crouching beside the boy. Sam nodded his head, the slight movement making him wince.

"Come on, we gotta get out before he gets back." Dean helped Sam to his feet and supported most of his weight as they limped back to the impala.

After helping Sam into the bench back seat, he straightened and stepped back.

"Stay here. Got your gun still?"

Sam nodded, eyes squeezing shut with the pain of his, most likely, concussion

"I'll be back soon." Dean said, more for himself than Sam.

He walked back through the front door and saw his father attempting to burn the drawing resting on the floor, a picture of a woman, standing with her arms crossed in front of a young boy, both of them laughing. It was the only thing keeping Clayton there; the link between life and death.

The research had mostly been done by Sam for this case. Fourteen was old enough, in John's opinion, to begin teaching more of the intellectual side, seeing as he had started physical training with Sam when he was nine and Dean was only twelve on his very first hunt.

Clayton had been only thirty five years old when he died in 1922, when there was an accident that ended up with a lot of broken equipment and a lot of blood staining the floor. The girl in the picture was his wife, along with his son. He had been an aspiring artist, the next DaVinci by any standards, destined to a life of fame and fortune, had it not been cut short. These kind of vengeful spirits were always tough in the eyes of Sam Winchester, who was the only one of the group to stop for a moment and have pity on a man who could have been great.

Dean rushed to his father'a side and grabbed the can of salt sprinkling it thoroughly over the picture before dousing it with lighter fluid and setting the whole thing ablaze.

"Where's Sam?" John asked wiping the sweat from his face with one hand and still holding his sawed off with the other.

"In the car. Clayton had him for a second. Probably got a concussion from hitting the ground when I shot the guy."

"We better go then, before the police show up." John said, hiding the worry for his youngest son behind a mask of egocentric comments.

They walked back to the car, both men itching to be reunited with Sam in order to carefully assess the extent of his injuries.

"Hey Sammy," Dean whispered as he opened the creaking door. Sam mumbled something unintelligible while laying completely still in the back seat. "We're all done. We're goin' home" Dean whispered as he lay a comforting hand on Sam's knee.

"We... Don't... Have.. A... Home..." Sam mumbled back, gasping slightly with each word.

And Dean supposed, to some extent, he was right.

They didn't have a home.

But they had each other,and that was good enough for him.

* * *

If you liked, review.

if not, review anyway. Do it for the Children.

have a beautiful day :)

GERONIMO

~Mercury


	2. A ride home and a sick little brother

Hello sweetie ;)

that was a doctor who reference for those of you who just got creeped out.

so chapter two

this was easy.

so that means there was probably a ton of mistakes so if you find any, write it in the thing and I'll fix it :)

hope everybody's good :)

disclaimer: if I owned them, then people would be cursing my name instead of Moffats and we don't need that :)

also: sorry about the grammar or the spelling whichever bothers you the most. :)

and without further ado, chapter two

hehe that rhymed

* * *

The drive back to the motel was fairly uneventful. Sam slept, John drove, and Dean watched the other cars go by out the window while tapping out the drum parts of various rock hits.

"When we get back, I want you to help Sam inside, give him some Tylenol and make him lay down. He might fight you though-" John was cut off by a sarcastic wave of the hand by Dean. John new better than to tell him how to take care of Sam, but it made him feel better to be a part of what happened to his boys, whether or not that's how things actually worked out.

"Alright then, I'll get the bags and then go get some coffee. Want any?" John asked, mostly just to make conversation.

"Sure dad," Dean responded dryly. He could use all the caffeine he could get, he could tell already that it was going to be a long night.

The impala pulled up to the last room at the end of the long motel building. Dean hopped out of the car and unlocked the door before returning for Sam.

"Sammy, wake up." Dean whispered, lightly shaking Sam's shoulder.

"Wha-" Sam started, but he was cut off by a wave of intense pain

"Hit your head pretty hard, huh?" dean asked, more himself than Sam.

He reached into the car and pulled Sam gently into a sitting position before sliding his strong arms under Sam's scrawny legs. He was skinny and short now, but Dean figured when he got older, he would get taller and fill out more and girls would be tripping trying to get near him. He was Dean's brother, after all.

After hauling the kid inside and placing him on the bed farthest from the door, Dean walked into the bathroom, grabbing a paper cup and filling it halfway with lukewarm tap water. He dug the Tylenol out of the first aid kit and shook two orange pills into his hand. Walking back to his brother, Dean noticed something he hadn't seen before they left. A note, sticking out from behind the dresser. He bent to retrieve it, his knees cracking on the way down, and noticed the color of the paper. It was light purple, sort of like lavender but just a shade or two lighter, darker purple flowers lining the edges. The paper crinkled when he picked it up, the color mostly faded from the side that had been in view of the window. He stood back up, note in hand, ready to read when he saw Sam bolt upright in bed out of the corner of his eye. He haphazardly threw the note on the dresser as he rushed to his brother's side trash can in hand, just in time.

When Sam had finished, Dean wiped his mouth and chin with a tissue before taking the trash can into the bathroom and closing the door. He could deal with that later. His first priority was and always would be, his brother.

"Take these. It will help with the pain." Dean said as he placed the pills in Sam's outstretched hand

Sam struggled to stay upright as he threw the pills in his mouth and swallowed them, spilling most of the water on his lap as he did so.

"srry" Sam slurred, his eyelids drooping with the effort of holding himself up.

"Its okay, tiger, get some sleep." Dean responded softly, knowing that it wasn't what you were saying, it was how you were saying it. He worked at taking off sams muddy boots and mismatched socks before covering him with the itchy motel blanket.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed used by his father, tapping his foot on the ground in an effort to stay awake.

The single light bulb flickered above the door way and Dean was instantly alert. No matter how reassuring the salt lines were and no matter the protection of the Demon traps spray painted on rugs and ceilings, he was always on edge.

But really, he thought to himself, who wouldn't be, in his situation? Who wouldn't be nervous when given the life of those you love most rests solely in your hands?

He silently told himself that nothing could get in through those barriers. Nothing was going to hurt Sam. Not on his watch. Not over his dead body.

Me tapped his foot and hummed the intro to Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple as he waited for his father to return with the coffee.

It had been two hours.

Two hours, alone, with a suspiciously pale and unmoving little brother, and nothing but the sound of his heart beating and the clock ticking to keep him company.

"Who takes two hours to get coffee, huh Sammy?" Dean whispered, only to fill the deafening silence.

No sooner had the words left his mouth when the door knob was turned and the door was pushed open, exposing a very worn out looking John Winchester.

"Where were you?!" Dean whisper shouted, his ability to pack so much accusation and anger into such few words was astounding, even to John, as he stood, paper bag in hand, looking halfway between confused and apologetic.

"It's a long story. In short, I have the coffee. And there is food in the trunk if you want to help me carry it in." He explained.

The winchesters had never really had money. Hussleing pool and credit card fraud could only get a family so far, and even when Sam and Dean were able to work odd jobs for people around town, they still struggled to stay afloat.

Dean left his brother in John's capable hands and walked out into the cool night air to retrieve the groceries

After carrying the six plastic bags back inside the motel, worn down boots hardly making a sound they were dragged back indoors, Dean returned to Sam's side. Carding his fingers through the your get boy's hair in attempt to draw his out of his slumber.

"Come on Sammy, wake up." He whispered.

And then Sam started seizing.

* * *

Hope you liked it :) sorry about the cliff hanger but only if that bothers you :)

reviews are good for your soul.

GERONIMO!

~Mercury


	3. Hospitals and other crazy stuff

Hello :) I'm back. It's been a while. Like three days, but still. Happy Labor Day everybody! And international Bacon Day!

So here's chapter three.

I don't particularly like it, but hey, maybe you will.

hopefully you will.

disclaimer: If I owned them I would be on a fancy beach somewhere drinking an expensive beverage from a coconut with one of those little umbrella things. But I'm sitting in my basement sooo...

warning: I'm bad with punctuation and spelling. Sorry.

ONWARD!

* * *

Dean stood frozen for a second, watching as his little brother jerked uncontrollably on the bed, before he sprung into action. He took all the items off of the dresser between the bed and placed a pillow between it and Sam, so he wouldn't hit against it.

He glanced at the clock.

Thirty seconds had never felt like an hour before.

His heart pounded, but he waited, having learned various scraps of medical information along his way to where he was now.

Two minutes.

He tapped his hand on his leg, waiting the seizure out.

One beat of his heart, two taps with his hand,one second.

John stood behind his oldest son, nervous, eyes filling with tears he would never allow to fall.

The tension in the room was palpable. The stress could be tasted with every breath.

Two minutes, thirty seconds.

The little ones weren't supposed to go passed three.

Two minutes forty five seconds.

Stop it, Sam, Dean thought. Stop this crap right now.

Three minutes.

No movement.

Dean sighed with relief

* * *

Sam woke up in his brothers arms. It happened sometimes, if he had a nightmare or if he was sick or something. Dean would probably tease him about it later.

But something was off. Before he opened his eyes he could sense it- like a cat stalking its prey-call it a hunter's instinct.

The smell was wrong. Motels smelled like stale whiskey and perfume and old people and dust. This- this was too clean.

This smelled like rubbing alcohol and hand sanitizer.

It sounded wrong.

There was beeping and there was talking but sam couldn't pick out any of the voices as people he knew.

Maybe Dean was watching TV. Maybe he had had a nightmare and they were at the motel and dad had come home and the cleaning people had been there and the voices were just on some stupid sitcom.

And that could've been right.

Except it felt wrong.

There was a weird tickling sensation under his nose that made him want to sneeze and the sheets on the bed were too stiff and too cold, like someone starched them and left them outside all night.

His hand felt weird and his head was aching.

He opened his eyes.

A mistake.

He hissed as the fluorescent lights dominated his vision and he immediately closed them again.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, voice a little gruff from sleep. "You awake?"

Sam tried to acknowledge Dean but he couldn't open his eyes and he wasn't sure he could trust his own voice.

Warm, calloused fingers wrapped around his hand and squeezed, just a little, just enough to let him know Dean was there.

"If you can hear me, squeeze my fingers."

So Sam did.

It took a lot of effort, it felt like his entire body was moving through syrup, but he did it.

"Good job, Sammy" Dean whispered.

Sam felt his brother shift on the bed, arm reaching over him. He didn't know what he was doing but he wished Dean would just sit still. The movement was making his head hurt and he wasn't sure how much more pain he could handle.

"Shh, Sammy, everything's gonna be okay. I'll fix it." Dean said softly, wiping the tears Sam hadn't meant to let fall.

Soon, footsteps could be heard coming closer and closer and Sam clutched at his brother's hand to keep himself calm.

"Samuel Winchester," an unknown voice said, causing Sam to whimper.

Dean moved his thumb in little circles across the back of Sam's hand.

"Sam." He said quietly. "His name is Sam."

"Okay, well, um, are your parents here?"

"My dad's getting coffee."

"And your mother?"

"She's not here anymore."

"Oh okay, well, I can't exactly give you information on my patient unless you're his legal guardian, so why don't you contact me when your father returns." The doctor with the short cropped blonde hair stated, factually, the way scientists do, or the way Sam would have if he was doing research.

"He is in pain. Fix it." Dean stated back, calmly; just because he didn't want to upset Sam.

It was a trick he had learned.

Sam was calm if he was.

She nodded and fiddled with one of Sam's many IV lines pushing buttons and increasing the flow of pain medication.

"Thanks" Dean said

"No problem. Don't forget to call."

Dean nodded.

"I'm gonna go get dad, okay Sammy? He's right downstairs and I'll come straight back." He whispered shifting slowly to get off of the bed.

"Dont... Leave... Me.." Sam choked, he hated the way his voice sounded, like he'd been underwater for a million years, all crackling and gross sounding.

"I'm not leaving, I'm coming back. I won't be gone for more than five minutes. I promise." Dean said and giving one final look at his ailing brother, left the room.

Dean walked swiftly out of the room to the stairs. He took them two at a time, completely focused on getting his father and then going back to Sam.

He was already regretting leaving.

Dean threw open the door at the bottom of the stairwell, searching the crowded waiting room for his father.

He found him, standing by the coffee maker, talking to a big, muscled man, probably in his late forties, with dark brown hair and a leather jacket.

"Dad," Dean started

"Dean I wanted you to meet Jeffrey Jackson, we worked together on a hunt a while back." John said

"Yeah nice to meet you. Dad, Sammy's awake."

John suddenly turned serious and he waved in the direction of his old friend as he jogged to keep up with Dean on his way to the stairs.

"Was he coherent?" John asked as they were running back up to the fourth floor.

"Kinda. He didn't really say much, but he understood what I said" Dean responded as he pushed the doorstep the top of the stairs open to reveal the series of rooms in the pediatric ward.

They walked swiftly to Sam's room where he lay with his eyes closed tears spilling down his red an splotched cheeks.

"Hey Sammy, it's okay, I'm back." Dean said as he rushed to his brothers side, thumbing away the tears that continued falling.

"Dad's here too. I'm sorry I left. But it's okay now. Everything's gonna be okay." He sat on the edge of Sam's bed and hit the red call button.

"The doctor's gonna come it soon and then maybe we can leave. How does that sound? What do you say we blow this Popsicle stand, huh?"

Dean was just mumbling now, but it didn't matter. Sam's heart rate had decreased to normal and the tears weren't falling anymore.

Because it wasn't what was said, it was how it was said.

The doctor from earlier re-entered the room, clipboard in hand.

"Hello Mr. Winchester, I'm Dr. Blayke. Sam is my patient." She said in the same scientific way she had before.

"Nice to meet you." He replied, trying to keep as polite as possible.

"It has been brought to my attention that Sam fell down the stairs and received a severe concussion, causing a mild seizure. Is this correct?" She asked, her voice completely void of emotion.

"Yeah." Dean said without looking away from his brother.

"Okay, well, I've started him on some pretty heavy pain medication, I'll send you with a few doses to take three times a day for a week or two, or until the pain subsides. He might experience a few minor symptoms over the next few weeks. I have a packet of information for you and then you can sign the discharge papers. Any questions?"

John shook his head while Dean continued to comfort his brother.

"Hear that Sammy? What do you say we pack up and get the hell outta dodge?" He said with a smile on his face.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed it, if you did, review, if you didn't, review to make the world a better place.

until next time,

GERONIMO!

~Mercury


	4. migranes and naptime nightmares

Hello! I'm back. Long time no see.

Kidding.

Chapter 4 is here :D

Disclaimer: If I owned them i would also own a computer.

Warnings: I'm bad with the writing thing.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REVIEWING MY LAST COUPLE OF CHAPTERS YOU MADE MY ENTIRE LIFE.

Six months later:

The man with the dark hair stood facing the alter with his face cast in the shadows of the candle light, the Latin he was speaking bounced off the solid cement walls in the basement of the cabin.

There was a unique stench about the place, the mist that hung in the air smelled of copper and charcoal.

The man shivered as a fresh gust of cool fall air entered through the door he had left propped open with a chair.

It was mid October and the leaves on the trees had begun to change, leaving the mountain air crisp with the scent of apples and dry leaves. He used to love autumn, the man, he and his son spent countless ones chasing after each other in the backyard, leaping into piles of red and yellow leaves and picking apples off the trees to bake into pies.

But that wouldn't happen this year.

This year, he was alone. nobody lived in town anymore, the winters were too harsh, the last couple had said before packing up and leaving.

But he knew that wasn't true.

He knew they left because of the howling they heard at night.

Because of the people that had gone missing, the innocence had been ripped away from this town and the man knew it.

He wished with his entire heart that it hadn't been. He wished his son was still there and he wished that meddling man and his stupid children would have stayed clear of what had belonged to him.

They had stolen the only thing he had cared about anymore.

Because this autumn, he wasn't out for apples, or leaves, or laughter.

He was out for revenge.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Where is he? Dean wondered to himself.

Sam was due home from school a half an hour ago.

"He probably went to the library of something to do homework, big geek." Dean said aloud to the empty room, his voice faltering with doubt.

He tapped his foot nervously against the ground, matching the beat to that of his pounding heart.

But then, much to his relief, the sound of rattling keys filled the room and the doorknob was turned, a very ragged and tiered looking Sam entering the room.

"Where HAVE you BEEN!?" Dean demanded walking, arms crossed toward his brother, who threw his backpack to the ground, not looking up. Dean could sense something was wrong before Sam even opened his mouth.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, you just worried me, that's all." Dean crouched to Sam's height, grabbing his shoulders gently with his large hands.

Sam looked up at him, tears in his eyes, as he reached his hand up to his head.

"Another one? Damn Sammy, keep it up like this and we'll have to go get more pain medication!" He whispered jokingly. He always tried to lighten the mood, it gave every situation, no matter how bad, an illusion of normality.

He switched off the light and pulled the curtains across the window, leaving the room completely dark.

Once his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Dean helped his brother to the bed, carefully lining him up so that his head collapsed gently onto the white motel pillow.

The next several hours were spent wringing out cold washcloths and whispering softly, coaxing the youngest Winchester into a hopefully peaceful slumber.

"That's it, Sammy, sleep. It will all be okay when you wake up."  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John walked through the aisles of the nearby supermarket, attempting to re-stock supplies with the little money he had made the night before playing poker at the bar down the street.

He threw items into the cart hesitantly, making sure each item was absolutely necessary before even thinking about buying it.

Standing in line to pay, he noticed a pad of light purple colored paper sitting next to the cash register. He had been following clues to this town, but he never expected any of them to lead somewhere so simple.

The last paper he had seen was in a motel, six months back. coordinates were written on it in scratchy handwriting.

That's why they were here,

He had heard about a couple of vampires using coordinates to find prey and he hoped this was one of those cases, or else he had spent all that gas money for no reason.

He paid for his groceries and headed back to the motel.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was sitting beside Sam when his father arrived. The second he stepped in the door, Dean put a finger to his lips and motioned his head toward his (finally) sleeping little brother.

John nodded his understanding and set about putting the groceries away as quietly as he could.

Dean glanced around the room absentmindedly, waiting as patiently as physically possible for a Winchester, for Sam to wake up.

Time passed by slowly, Dean eventually falling asleep and John eventually following suit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean woke to the Sam wiggling around and murmuring softly in his sleep. At first, he thought nothing of it, Sam had never been still while he slept. But then, the wiggling faded into writhing and the murmuring became whimpering and he knew Sam was in the throws of a nightmare.

"Sammy, wake up." Dean whispered, setting his hand on Sam's shoulder, shaking lightly.

"Stop it... stop... please... I didn't... no! DEAN!" Sam cried in his sleep.

"Sam it isn't real, its okay. I'm right here." Dean whispered softly, pulling his brother into his arms.

"Dude, wake up. You're fine. I'm fine. Everything's good."

Sam's eyes flew open and he gasped turning to look up at Dean.

"You left. Dad left. Everybody left and I was alone and he hurt me! It hurt so bad, Dean he tortured me! He wanted me to die! I was dying and I was alone and and and you weren't coming to save me!" Sam whispered as he cried.

"Hey. You listen to me right now. I am not leaving. Nobody's gonna hurt you. Not while I'm here."

"He told me you weren't coming. He said I would be there forever and that you would never find me!"

"And who told you that, huh?"

"It was... It was dark. He had a jacket on and I couldn't... I couldn't see his face. He had a knife, Dean!"

"It's okay, Sammy. Shh, it was just a nightmare."

Thanks for reading!

Review because you want me to be happy:D

GERONIMO!

~Mercury


	5. A bad day at school

Hey everybody! Long time no see, huh? :) I've been busy. Crazy I know :) the last week has been a crazy mix of birthdays and pre-op appointments and studying and ingesting copious amounts of microwaveable pizza.

disclaimer: If I owned them I would not be eating microwave pizza.

warnings:none read on! Other than my extensive lack of knowledge :)

CHAPTER 5

Smoke curled around his feet when he stepped into the circle. The sky had darkened further, and the stars and the moon now softly lit it, far from the harsh glow of any streetlamp.

The smoke solidified and wings were formed from the swirling black tendrils.

"Why have you summoned me?" The raspy voice inquired, taloned feet scratching lines into the solid concrete of the cabin floor.

"I have a job for you." The man said, standing with his face in the shadows. His dark clothing camouflaging him perfectly in the gloom.

"Whatever you desire, master. Your wish is indeed my command." The creature bowed, his form glimmering slightly with the movement.

"Find me Samuel Winchester. Bring him to me. Alive. I have plans for him."

Sam sat at his desk, tapping his pencil absentmindedly, waiting for class to end.

English had never been his favorite, and he had already read To Kill a Mockingbird last year, a different place; a different time.

"Alright everybody, I expect this book to be finished by next class. I will be checking annotations as well as the chapter review questions." the teacher with the thick rimmed glasses said, his voice as monotone as usual.

Sam rolled his eyes. He probably wouldn't even be here next class. His father had found a new hunt and they would be leaving bobby's soon in favor of one unpleasant motel or another.

Sam stood as the bell rang, shoving his book into his backpack and heading out the door.

"Winchester, I need to see you for a moment, please." The teacher almost shouted, so as to be heard over the bustling madness that is a high school on a Friday afternoon.

"What? Why?" Sam asked just as he was at the threshold of the door.

He could run, its not like he would get in trouble.

But he didn't.

"I just need to have a word with you in my office over the last essay you wrote. Nothing big. Don't worry" He said with a smile that didn't quite reach his suddenly cold dark eyes.

"Uhhhh Okay?" Sam said, mostly to the ground.

He walked back through the crowd, still funneling out the small classroom door, and to the little office behind the teacher's desk.

"So Sam," He started "Why do you think I called you in today?" his hands were folded and his elbows leaned up against the desk as he studied the young hunter with a peculiar gaze.

"Uhh you just said, about my essay?" Sam stared at his feet, bouncing his knees.

"No Samuel. Really. Why do you think I asked you to talk to me?"

Sam's heart began to pound.

Dad had warned him about situations like this.

You never tell anyone you are alone. You never tell them your parents are not a constant fixture in your life. You never tell because it can get families torn apart, even if they mean the best. You never tell, and you never show fear.

"It isn't because I know you. It isn't because of your GPA or your attendance to any one specific school, or your lack thereof. This isn't because I know where you live, or because I know how you feel. I've been watching you, Winchester. I know what I'm doing. I am an expert, you see, at deception. I have to be. It is the life I lead."

Sam's eyes widened and he bolted from his seat toward the door.

"Not so fast, Sammy! We're not done yet!" The man's voice was turning more rough and gravelly with each word. The door, Sam's only hope for escape was slammed in his face and locked by an unseen force.

"Let. Me. Go. So help me, my brother will kill you." Sam used all the strength and courage he had and spit the words out in an angry mess of bitter thoughts.

"Calm down Sam, I'm not going to hurt you." The man said, but before Sam could react, he started shaking. Twisting and turning as a black veil of smog suddenly crowded the room, making it harder to breathe and harder yet to see.

A screeching noise filled the room as black feathered wings outstretched, only their shadows visible through the smoke.

Sam cowered into the back corner of the room. There wasn't much else he could do; he couldn't run, he could scream, but judging from the lack of attention to the screeching of the creature, nobody would hear him, he needed help, but there was a notable lack of heroes at his disposal.

So he became one himself.

He stood, his knees shaking and his shoulders trembling, in front of the great beast before him and he shouted at the top of his lungs.

"YOU DO NOT SCARE ME. YOU CAN"T HURT ME! I WON'T LET YOU!"

Because Sam knew, unlike so many others, that sometimes bravery isn't fighting your way through. Sometimes it's standing up, even when you don't know for sure if you will ever sit back down again, and reveling in self confidence you never really knew existed.

The swirling smog cleared and what stood before Sam could no longer be defined as human.

It had giant bird-like wings and his legs were covered with iridescent feathers.

"Harpy" Sam whispered under his breath.

Being the family's main researcher definetly had its advantages.

Harpies, Sam recalled, were often used for revenge they derived their powers from the weather, specifically wind and rain. An angy man or woman would usually hire a sorcerer of sorts to summon one, but sometimes they did it themselves.

Harpies, Sam thought, were particularly hard to come across. Dad had told him about them once, but he had never seen one himself.

Come along winchester, master has very special plans for you." The harpy said through gritted fangs.

"But you said you weren't going to hurt me!" Sam stated, mostly to buy time, for what, he didn't know.

"Ahhh Sam, you were not listening. I will not hurt you, for that is not my responsibility. I can not, however say the same for my master. He seems revenge and he will find it through you.

Alright! You've made it to the end! I wrote this in like ten seconds so sorry that it's kinda sucky.

reviews could potentially save lives through a long drawn out series of events featuring award wining plot twists and David Tennant.

GERONIMO!

~Mercury


	6. mostly just a lot of waiting

Hello! Sorry! Its been a little bit. I had surgery on Monday, and I've been crazy busy trying to put stuff back together, which I suppose doesn't count as a valid excuse, seeing as it hasn't worked for literally anything else. But hey! I'm here now, right? better late than never...

ENJOY! :D

Disclaimer: If I owned them I wouldn't be busy because I would just be rich and happy and writing all the time but I am currently eating three day old soup I microwaved in the can...

Warning: little bit of stabbing at the end but nothing too serious. Unless my grammar is serious now..

It had happened before.

That's why he wasn't too worried.

Sam got migraines and he got lost and he got distracted.

He was late home all the time, no matter how hard Dean tried to get him to hurry back.

It had been different, back when they had gone to the same school, but at 18, Dean considered himself above the required level of education for his field of work, and John didn't care so much, as long as his boys were safe and together.

The clock was ticking.

No sign of Sam.

"Would you quit it with the stupid worrying thing, he's fine." Dean scolded himself aloud.  
The thoughts racing through his mind did not match the words spilling out of his mouth.

He turned on the television, just to pass time, but he couldn't bring himself to care about whatever stupid show was playing. The characters did make him wonder though, what his life would be like if his biggest problem was finding a date or figuring out how to apologize for something that never happened.

Minutes dragged on, and feet were tapped on worn and stained carpet. The stench of the hotel making Dean nauseous.

The door suddenly flew open, letting in a fresh blast of cool autumn wind.

"Dean, I need you to pack the weapons bag and get it into the car. I found us a job just outside of Tallahassee. Maybe, if we finish early we can take a break." John spoke loudly, as he always did, his voice gruff, left with a certain edge to it after Mary died, like a piece of his heart had been torn off and he hadn't quite figured out how to smooth it back out yet.

"Where's Sam?" He asked, after glancing around the room and finding no trace of his youngest son.

"Hasn't come home yet." Dean said "probably studying for something."

"He HASN'T come home yet and YOU DIDN'T think to see WHY?" John said, maybe a little more harsh than he had meant.

"I'm sorry dad, I didn't think.." He started

"Exactly! Why don't you ever think?!" John shouted, he knew he shouldn't be so hard on Dean, he was still just a kid after all, but they couldn't afford mistakes, not now, not this year, not ever.

Dean hung his head as he stood.

"I'll go check the school." he mumbled stepping outside.

"Damn right! I'll wait around here in case he comes back." John stated, annoyed.

The road to the local high school wasn't a particularly nice one. It wound around cold concrete buildings and houses with boarded up windows, like something straight from a horror movie. He and Sam had made fun of them only a few days earlier, the way that the shutters creaked in the wind would have had other kids their age shivering with fear, but it just made them laugh harder.

The way ghosts were portrayed in movies had always made the boys smile.  
"The inaccuracy is just.. oh my gosh!" Sam would scoff in between bouts of uncontrollable laughter.  
Dean smiled at the ground in recollection of the memory.

The wind blew multicolored leaves in all directions, kicking up gray dust from the gravel road.  
The laughing and general loudness coming from somewhere to his right indicated Dean's location relative to the school.

Screeching from the somewhere inside the school grabbed his attention and he soon found himself running and pushing people out of the way, finally reaching the front of the semi circle of students that had gathered in front of one of the classrooms. The door of the office in the back had been blown to shreds and whatever, whoever had been inside must have been fried by the looks of it. Everything in the room had been reduced to a burning, black, pile of ash.

"What do ya think happened?" The kids behind Dean whispered among themselves.  
"Maybe it was a monster. or fireworks. or like that thing with the coffee in the teachers lounge last year." Dean couldnt stand it anymore.  
He stepped over the yellow caution tape and ignored all protests from the teachers still trying to regain control over the rallying students.

He was about to turn away, when a sudden, powerful odor beat its way to his nose through the overly perfumed teenagers and lemon air-freshener.

Sulfur.

Sam woke to the sound of water plinking onto something metal. He opened his eyes to find darkness. Allowing his vision to adjust to the lack of light, Sam noticed a small window to his right, but there was a sheet of cardboard covering it, not allowing the light to find its way to his shivering skin.

"Ahh, hello Sammy!" An overly enthusiastic voice whispered from behind him, he tried to turn, but he was tried to the chair he was sitting in. It was then that he tasted the musty rag that was shoved into his mouth.

"Whats wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?" The voice said. Sam could almost hear the smile stretch across the man's face.  
"Well, not yet anyway. I have plans for you, Winchester. I hope you're excited!"

Sam struggled against his restraints, to no avail, as the man cackled."  
The man came around the chair to face the young hunter. His dark coat hung awkwardly from his slender frame. His face mostly covered by a fedora.

Sam mumbled something through the gag and the man bent in front of him, yanking the cloth out, leaving it around his neck.

"Didn't catch that, what did you say?" He asked, a stereotypical hint of evil in his old and crackling voice.

"you cant really pull of the well dressed bad guy routine, huh?" Sam asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

The man's face fell momentarily before his smile rose again, this time out of anger.

"You will pay for that, you stupid, worthless, freak!" He whispered before pulling the gag back into Sam's mouth

He pulled a knife out from his back pocket, admiring it in the dark, making sure to reflect any light he could to emphasize his point to the young man in front of him.

"Goodnight, Winchester. Sleep tight! Don't let the demons bite" was the last thing Sam heard before a blinding blast of white hot pain shot through his shoulder and what little color there was left for him to see in the world faded to a dull and thickening black.

Hope you liked!

I gotta go do actual stuff now.

REVIEW AND MAKE ME SMILE!

~MERCURY


	7. Crying and trying to figure things out

Hello there wonderful people! Long time no see, again. Sorry. I could make up a whole bunch of excuses like I was sick or I was busy or whatever which is mostly true but I'm sorry anyway.

if you were brought here by The Shadow of the Wolf thank you for coming please enjoy even though I'm not as great as he is sorry.

thank you everybody who reviewed my last chapter :)

if anybody is looking for some really excellent Percy Jackson fanfiction you should definitely check out The Shadow of the Wolf because he is my favorite author and he's amazing and perfect so go read his stuff.

Warnings; there is a torture scene at the end of this chapter but it's not really that graphic so if you don't like that kind of thing maybe stop in the middle of the chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own them if I did then I would not be drowning in a sea of tissues and cough syrup I would be sitting on a beach somewherewith a good zombie movie and a bowl of popcorn because that's the sort of thing you do when you're rich and famous you can eat stuff and watch movies at the beach.

Without further ado please enjoy this chapter.

Dean: He ran as fast as he could, backtracking to the hotel, leaping over piles of leaves and twigs. Sweat poured from his forehead with the mixture of physical exhaustion and stress.

He made it back to the warn out building in less than five minutes, not stopping until he was pushing his way through the old wooden door with the lock that didn't work anymore.

"Dean, I'm sorry about the way I..." John started to apologize, which was rare for the oldest Winchester, but was cut off by the look of panic on Dean's face and the panting that constricted his voice.

"Demons!" Dean managed to say around his breath. "There were... Demons...at the.. school..." each word was flung from his lips with a certain cautious ferocity as he explained the ordeal he had experienced only a few moments ago.

"And you think they took Sam?" John asked, negative thoughts clouding his mind as he jumped through a list of conclusions.

"He WASN'T THERE DAD! HE'S GONE AND WE NEED TO FIND HIM BEFORE IT"S TOO LATE!" Dean cried out in anguish. He felt his knees turning to gelatin beneath him and his chest hurt, like his lungs were so full of panic they didn't have room for air anymore.

He felt large, steady handa gently putting pressure on his shoulders, encouraging him to sit down before he fell down. Soft words were spoken, but he wasn't coherent enough to process what they meant.

A black smog encroached into his field of vision as he wrapped his shaking arms around his knees, beginning to rock back and fourth, like some crazy mental patient in need of his next medicated reality check.

"Son, you need to calm down. Panicking isn't going to help us find your brother. But we will find him, you hear me? He's going to be okay." The fog in Dean's racing mind began to clear and he began to go through a list of ways to find his brother.

That's what he always did when he was scared. He made lists. Sort of like really detailed instructions scribbled out in his mind to keep things in order.

Step one: Investigate at the scene

Step two: Come back and research

Step three: Call Bobby for help

Step four: Find Sam

Step Five: NEVER LET THE KID OUT OF YOUR SIGHT AGAIN

He just hoped things would be that simple. But he knew, of course, that he was a Winchester, and when did anything ever go as planned?

Sam

Having a bucket of ice cold water dropped onto your head is never a good way to wake up.

Sam, being still restrained by ropes that insisted on rubbing his wrists raw, learned that the hard way.

"Time to wake up, pretty boy!" His captor yelled gleefully, his voice breaking off into howling laughter as Sam coughed around the gag, trying to rid his mouth of the putrid water that dripped down his face, causing him to shiver in the cool autumn air. "Oh we have such big plans for today!" He chuckled as he turned to face Sam.

"Aren't you excited? I thought we could have so much fun together! Well, I guess if you have nothing to say in the matter, we can still do it..." He spoke with mock disappointment kept at peace by the knowledge that even if the boy could talk, he would be incapacitated by his shoulder wound enough to keep him from fighting back.

He thought of all the things he could do, all the pain he could cause to this insolent fool whose father had caused him so much pain.

"I think we should start off with a little heat, you know since its been so cold these last few weeks," He spoke softly now, his gravelly voice almost overpowered by the sound of leaves blowing in the wind coming from outside.

Sam was too tired to react. The pain in his shoulder was a dull throbbing one that clouded his mind over any possibility of thought, much less any possibility of an answer.

This was all much to the appreciation of the man in the coat, of course, because he was a fragile man, broken down from the inside, and any sort of thorough explanation would surely shatter his soul before he knew what was happening. He was not born evil, but nobody really is. To become evil is to take your heart and twist it and turn it and carve into it until is no longer resembles what you used to be. All the good is extracted and replaced by fear and doubt and the need to control somebody else because you can no longer control yourself.

He stopped his musings and walked to the corner of the room, pushing away cardboard boxes and wooden crates, creating loud noises that only contributed to Sam's growing migraine.

Soon, an old wood burning stove was uncovered and the man in the coat slowly but surely began to build a fire.

Within twenty minutes, the water on the stove was boiling rapidly and the youngest Winchester had succumbed to the treacherous wonders of pain induced unconsciousness.

The man walked back over to his victim, and back handed him across the face in attempt to bring him forward from his somewhat peaceful slumber.

His efforts proved worthwhile when Sam slowly blinked and attempted to move his arms toward his face, but ropes were unwilling to allow him even enough freedom to move his hands.

"Wake up! I have a fun game we can play!" The man howled with laughter at the look of sheer terror on the young boy's face as he brought over the pot of boiling water. The man wasted no time in tearing Sam's shoes off and throwing them to the corner of the room.

He brought the pot of water to the foot of the chair and grabbed Sam's ankles, one in each hand.

Before Sam could realize what was happening, his bare feet were submerged in what felt like fire, the bubbles from the water burning marks onto his skin.

A sickening, earsplitting scream erupted from the young boy's mouth, even muffled by the fabric that was gracelessly shoved into his mouth, the sound carried out of the building, sending the crows in the trees flapping off in a frenzy of black feathers.

And with that, darkness once again flooded the mind of Sam Winchester and his world, smoke filled and fiery, faded into a dull and painful black.

I hope you enjoyed please review and follow if you feel like it or if you want to make me happy don't forget to check out the Percy Jackson fan fiction because it's amazing and my favorite thing and I'm sort of unhealthy obsessed but that's just me and if you're anything like me you will be obsessed with it too, also he just added a new chapter and it's amazing.

also: soulless666- thank you so much for reading :) you are a fantastic human being and I appreciate you.


End file.
